


IrishWitch58's Random Prompt Square Fill

by IrishWitch58



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Q's mind works differently, wrecked cars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: Another series of works filling the prompt square labeled random for 007 Fest





	1. Frog

#1 Frog

The vehicle that had formerly been a very high end, highly Q branch modified, and pristine Audi sedan crouched in one of the motor bays, having been brought in by a flat bed truck in the early hours of the morning. The vehicle, assigned to 003, was in no sense fit for return to service and Q was staring at it, hands on hips, shaking his head, and his mouth a thin line of disapproval. 

The technicians in the background weren't sure what Bond was doing there. For once he wasn't responsible for the wanton destruction of Q branch property. Dressed in his customary suit and exuding his usual air of confidence, no one dared challenge his right to be there. Presently he was leaning against a heavy workbench, sipping coffee from a travel mug. If anybody noticed that it was an exact twin of the one on the bench that held Q's morning tea, they didn't dare comment. 

Q picked up a clipboard that held a print copy of the preliminary report summarizing the mission. He sighed as he ran a hand over a crumpled fender. 'Crowded into a stone wall by a lorry while engaged in pursuit'. He moved to the side, shaking his head at the indentation in the passenger door. 'Rammed by the suspect's SUV.' The windows, while bullet resistant, had clusters of pock marks. 'Multiple assailants with automatic weapons interrupted the pursuit.' 

The list went on in the same tone for almost two pages. The agent had used almost every trick Q branch had provided in the course of the mission and the car still looked ready for the scrap heap. There wasn't one area of the vehicle that was untouched. 

Bond straightened from his casual pose and took a step or two closer, putting him directly behind Q's right shoulder. “Well, at least he didn't blow it up.”

Q shook his head and regarded Bond with bemused resignation. “While no agent has ever bested your record of vehicular destruction, I know that you have never returned one that required retrieval from an ornamental pond where several swans attacked the truck driver and his assistant. Nor have you ever managed to do this.” Q opened the driver's side door and the contents previously held back splashed out across the floor in a flood of algae green water, a literal raft of water lilies, several fish and one fat frog which squatted in the middle of the diminishing puddle, shifting side to side to examine the strange place it now found itself. 

Bond grinned devilishly. He whispered so only Q could hear. “Maybe if you kiss it, it will turn into a new car.”

Q whispered back, “I've been kissing you for a year and a half and that never worked.” He grinned at the sudden bark of laughter from 007, the rest of those present completely puzzled as to what was so amusing. 

One of the techs appeared with a large plastic bin and scooped the unimpressed amphibian into it. Q made some entries in his tablet and Bond snatched up the tea mug, wandering off to get it refilled with Q's favored brew. 

Nobody much commented when one of the desks on the main floor of Q branch acquired an aquarium tank which became the new home of the poor displaced frog and, although Q was occasionally distracted by the odd escaped cricket, the frog became a favored mascot. The tag placed on the outside of the tank read Audi. Newcomers were advised never to ask the reason in Q's hearing.


	2. Skip

#2 Skip

Q's life moved quickly, rarely smoothly, often in fits and starts, rather in the way tectonic plates are described as holding in one place for immeasuarable amounts of time and then, moving with sudden drastic energy. His perpetually active brain jumped ahead, perceiving patterns where others saw chaos. When he was in school his teachers despaired because he would hand them an inevitably correct solution but no description of how he had arrived at the answer. “You skipped the work,” they'd say. “Go back and show the process.” 

He did an internship for one of his professors. The required tasks were always done but the professor would be unhappy when he discovered Q working on something else. “You must have skipped something,” he'd say. “I'm obviously not working you hard enough.”

His promotion to Q branch head was greeted with approbation by the best of the technicians, the ones whose projects had miraculous results when he had input. Others were resentful and envious. “Who do you think he buttered up to skip up the ladder that way?”

When he was monitoring missions, he was rarely still and his decisions sometimes defied his techs to keep up with his logic. The solutions verged on the magical sometimes to minds who didn't see the world the way he did. “007, take the second door and the stairs to the left,” the tech in the earpiece said. 

“Skip that, 007. Out the window now. Into the canal.” James Bond trusted his young Quartermaster who had just overridden the tech monitoring him. He dove for the window, surfacing from his submersion in the canal to see the building he had just exited erupting in a fireball. 

The exhausted agent came into Q branch, bruised around the face and expecting an immediate report to be required, was relieved of his equipment and told, quite gently, “Skip it. It can be done tomorrow after you rest a bit.”

Much later, Q returned to his flat, stepped into the arms of his lover , and found himself drowning in a heated kiss that curled his toes and made his heart race. He shed his coat and shoes, intent on a heated reunion. He was gripped tight in James' solid embrace. “Oh no, darling Q. We are not skipping ahead to the main event. Tonight we do this slow and take in all the steps along the way.”And later Q acknowledged that, for some things, skipping ahead meant missing some of the best parts.


	3. Ice

#3 Ice

Q found living with James Bond to be a much easier matter than he might have expected. The man's life outside of work was actually very much the opposite of the life he lived when he was on a mission. He liked his living space tidy but didn't like the idea of having a maid with access to his private life so he had become a very efficient housekeeper, reducing most chores to their bare minimum by doing things to keep mess down. Q had learned that he could not get away with leaving his dishes in the sink. It was actually very nice having the place organized. 

Bond also wasn't one for spending a lot of time in pubs or other expected activities. He preferred, generally, to have a good meal at home with Q and spend the evening reading while Q worked on his latest project. If he was in London on a Thursday night, that was his night out with some of his old Royal Navy friends. It was a standing date and one he never missed. Q counted on that and had scheduled his own preferred activity for Thursday evening, knowing James would be either on mission or out with his friends, telling each other bad jokes. Inevitably James would come home late to make slow sleepy love to Q. 

It was a wonderful arrangement. It was wonderful right up until the Thursday Bond told him that he was not going because his Navy friends were all either deployed or otherwise occupied and he saw no point in going out alone. Q hesitated in the act of putting his work bag down and resigned himself to staying in. It wasn't as if he had to go. He sighed and wandered into the kitchen wondering what to do about supper. James came up behind him. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. I can do supper here with you.” He gave a cheery smile.

“But you had plans?” Bond frowned. “Look, I know you take Thursdays to do whatever it is. Go ahead.” Bond kissed his forehead. “Oh, I've a better idea. I'll come along.” 

Q chewed on that. He knew where Bond was spending his time but it seemed the reverse was not true. It might be nice to share this little bit of himself. He nodded and put the food away. “Come on then. We can eat there.” He eyed Bond's suit trousers and dress shirt. “Best change though. Something warm.” He hurried to pull on his preferred Thursday attire, jeans with a set of tight thermals underneath and a pullover and lightweight jacket. He threw extra socks in the carry bag and grabbed his keys. Bond grinned at the enthusaism and followed suit, donning jeans and boots and layering a long sleeved polo under his old leather jacket. Q dumped the bag in the back seat of his car and was rolling before Bond had even fastened his belt. Q drove the often travelled route with half his attention on James who was looking at him curiously. He pulled up in the car park of the rec center and slung the bag over a shoulder. James stared at the lighted sign on the building they were approaching. Ice Rink – Lessons by Appointment – Open Skate M-Th, closed Fridays – Couples Night Saturday – Family Night Sunday. He looked at Q and grinned. “Ice skating? Really.”

Q grinned back. “I've been doing it since I was a kid. I was never much for team sports but this I could do.” As they spoke, they walked up to the door. Q greeted the older man at the counter and paid the fee. 

“Will your friend need skates?” the man asked. Q shook his head and headed for the rink. Bond followed along, taking a seat on a bench near the boards surrounding the rink. Q bent to put on the extra socks and slip his feet into the skate boots, taking care to tighten the laces just enough. He was aware of Bond observing the people on the ice. There were a lot of kids, mainly teenagers. There was a middle aged couple orbiting around each other and taking occasional dancing turns together and laughing brightly as they spoke to each other. 

Q stood, slipped the guards off and opened the nearest gate, stepping onto the rink. He took a few circuits, just warming up and enjoying the speed and the hiss of his blades on the ice. The music changed on the old speakers and he began to move with it, doing a few simple jumps when it was safe to do so. He knew he wasn't an expert but he loved the feeling of freedom. He'd danced at parties and in clubs when he was in university but he'd felt clumsy. The ice let him glide, made his moves feel graceful and coordinated. As the slower song finished, he came to stop in a spin and came out of it into a much faster sequence when the next song was a sort of club dance thing. The cold air made his cheeks sting and he smiled and let his body dictate it's own pace, mind floating free. He veered around a group of younger kids and spun around the older lady in an easy spiral making her laugh too. He finally came to stop in front of Bond, who was now leaning over the boards. 

“You look wonderful out there.” Bond said, just loud enough for Q to hear over the noise in the rink. To Q's shock, Bond leaned in and kissed him. A quick affectionate gesture that made Q smile even wider when he pulled away. He backed up from the boards a few inches to execute a theatrical little bow. It would have been perfect except for the teenaged boy who was speeding past behind him and bumped him. Q sat down hard on the ice, skates flying up and his breath knocked out. 

After a moment he grabbed at Bond's hand offered over the boards and stood up rubbing an idle hand over his hip. Bond craned his head to look at him questioningly. Q smiled, unable to be bothered. “It's nothing. Anyone who skates hits the ice occasionally. Let's grab something to eat and I'll go back out after.” 

As he was fitting the guards on the blades, Bond leaned in and whispered, “And when we go home, I can massage that for you.” 

Q almost answered that James didn't need an excuse to grab his assets but he didn't want to shock the other skaters.


	4. Frame

#4 Frame

Bond stumbled through the door, dragging Q along with him, clutching at each other and separating only long enough for Q to reset the alarms. Bond took the few seconds to kick off his shoes and had his hands back in the wild tumble of hair and his tongue delving into Q's hot mouth as soon as he could manage. Q was using his own very talented hands to open buttons and fasteners, giving access to more skin. This was a plan Bond was entirely in favor of and he did everything he could to facilitate the outcome.

It was almost a dance as they shifted around each other, never completely losing contact and moving closer to the bedroom and losing articles of clothing as they went. Reaching the bedside, Q plundered the bedside drawer and threw condoms and lube to the middle of the mattress. Bond pulled the duvet down and folded it over the foot of the bed. They always seemed to get more messy than expected. Green eyes glinted an invitation as Q slid across the sheet, stretching to deposit his glasses on the opposite nightstand. Bond placed a knee on the edge of the mattress and tried to decide where to start. Q like this was always a delight, full of energy and ready for anything Bond could come up with. Bond climbed the rest of the way up to put a hand on the bed next to Q's head, leaning down for another kiss. He made a quick grab and rolled to side, pulling Q over to land on top. As he did so, hitting the mattress and taking Q's weight, an earthquake struck. There was a sudden tremor and a resounding crack and everything dropped a foot. 

Bond stared up at the ceiling. There was still a tremor. It was not an aftershock. It was Q, head buried in Bond's shoulder, shaking with laughter. Every time he put his head up to catch his breath, he dissolved into fits again. Bond waited it out until there was just an occasional snort. “Q, love, what just happened?”

Q giggled again. “Why, James, did you never hear the phrase, 'the earth moved'?” And he promptly gave in to hilarity again.

Bond decided that the broken bed frame was not going to halt the proceedings. He rolled again, this time pinning Q under him, much to the other man's very vocal delight.

Much later, after round two, when they were just lying quietly and enjoying being close, Bond reopened the topic. “Tomorrow, we're both off. We're going shopping for a new bed. A nice big one with a metal frame.”

“It'll squeak,' Q complained sleepily.

Bond rested his chin on top of the tousled curls. “We won't notice it much, provided I make you squeak louder.”

Q pinched him.


	5. Sneaker

#5 Sneaker

Bond opened one eye, unwilling to acknowledge that it was, indeed, morning. Some small noise had disturbed him and he was mildly unhappy about that. He enjoyed the occasions when he could sleep at Q's flat. It was a comfortable environment and he seemed to sleep better here than at the flat he had been handed. He knew it was early. He always had a sense of what the time was. He reached out an exploratory hand. The space next to him was still warm. Q hadn't been up long but there was no sound from the bathroom and the light was not on. Bond was a bit surprised. It was unlikely there had been a call out. He knew he would have heard that. 

He heard a slight huff of breath and craned his neck up. Q was on the far side of the bed, on the carpeted floor. Shifting to get a better view, Bond smiled at the sight of Q's pert posterior, in a tight pair of shorts, pulled even tighter by his position, hips up and shoulders down low to the floor and with one arm extended under the bed. He was obviously searching for something. And from the frustrated grunts, having little luck. 

Bond cleared his throat. “Could you use some help?” he asked in his most polite tones.

Q jumped a bit, then looked up over the edge of the mattress. “I'm sorry I woke you. I can't find my other sneaker.”

“Since I'm awake, would you like me to help you look?”

“If you don't mind,” Q said. “I wanted to go for a run, but I can only find one sneaker and I think it must be under here only I can't bloody well find it,” He ducked down and made another sweep with his hand with no better luck.

Bond rolled off the mattress on his side and switched on the light. Q had been shining a torch around at ground level. Bond eyed a darker shadow near the top of the bed and reached as far under as he could. After a moment, his fingers touched something. He carefully crooked his index finger under and pulled gently. The missing footwear emerged, dangling from the laces. Standing up, he stretched across the bed, holding the sneaker just out of Q's reach. Q made a lunge for it and Bond pulled it back, grabbing Q by the wrist and hauling him back across the mattress. Bond quelled his protests with a kiss. “I can think of ways to get your morning exercise that don't require putting on sneakers. And if you have enough energy left when we're done, I'll go running with you.”


	6. Horn

#6 Horn

Q was not entirely sure how he had offended Mallory to be exiled to the wilds of Scotland. Yet, here he was, waiting for the arrival of the individual suspected of feeding industrial tech to terrorists. He and Bond were sitting in a remote MI6 safe house that had originally been someone's idea of a traditional Scottish hunting lodge. All it managed to be was dark, chilly and inconvenient. 

After the third day of waiting, when his toast was either underdone or scorched and the hot water was either scalding or non existent, Q had reached a level of terminal frustration. He decided exercise was a better alternative to attempted murder. Bond being the only other person present, Q rather thought his chances there were not as good as might be. Bond might not be the potential criminal genius Q was, but he was the survivor of multiple murderous plots. He had skills. Of course, as sharp as Q's temper was, if he snapped at Bond one more time, Q might find himself the victim of 007's own frustration. Considering all this, Q decided a nice long walk might be a wise plan. Accordingly, he collected his outdoor gear, appropriated a pair of waterproof boots and headed out into the autumn early morning. 

There was mist clinging to lower areas and there were a variety of noises he tagged internally as wildlife. Most seemed to be birdsong, as the sun was just beginning to lighten the eastern sky. At least one might have been a fox. He followed a rough trail for a bit, coming to a stand of old trees at the head of the valley. The daylight had yet to penetrate under the boughs and he peered in a bit uncertainly. A number of the trees had bark removed in swathes from the ground to about six feet up. Q thought it didn't look like the result of tools. Making sure he could still see the chimney of the lodge, Q ventured into the trees a little further. It was even cooler under here, dim and distant from any of his prior experience. The ground under foot was soft and springy with seasons of fallen leaves and needles covering the earth. Something lighter in the dimness caught his eye. He picked up what he thought was on oddly shaped stick and realized it was an animal's horn, dark brown at the blunt end and curving gracefully, ending in an array of bleached white sharp points. He turned it over in his hands, He didn't know much about animals with the exception of cats, ferrets and snakes. He knew there were deer in Scotland. Could this be from a deer?

He had been studying his find for perhaps ten minutes when he heard a soft noise. Bond was standing just behind him. Q knew the man had made that sound deliberately. He was completely capable of utter silence when it was necessary. He stepped further into the trees. “Good morning for a walk.” He glanced at the object in Q's hand. “Good sized stags around here,” he commented. 

Q cocked one eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

Bond approached and gestured. “See how broad the shed end is? The animal had a large pedicle to grow an antler that size. And the number of points increases with age. I'd guess five or six years old and maybe 150 kilos.”

“But don't they need their horns?” Q asked.

“Properly speaking, they're antlers. They shed the old ones and grow a new set every year. These are from this spring or the last.” Bond was looking about and moving over the area in short steps. He kicked at the leaf litter and eventually turned up another smaller antler. “Too much to hope we'd find both from a single animal,” he mused. He held out a hand. “Give me that one for a bit. I want to see if he's close enough.”

Q looked around, a bit apprehensive. “What are you going to do?”

Bond smiled, a real genuine smile. “If there's a stag around here, he might come if we call the right way.” Bond proceeded to tap and rub the antlers together in random patterns, the sounds startlingly loud in the quiet. Bond had a sort of fond look on his face. It made him look younger. “Old Kincaid taught me about stalking. Never really wanted to actually take one but I liked the idea of getting a look at one. Now this,” he gestured with the antlers, “Felix showed me. The males fight each other this time of the year. This sound carries and may lure one in to see if there's a female around to fight over.” 

Q spun around sharply as a sudden noise rent the quiet. It was low pitched and echoed. “Bloody hell, you didn't mention lions!”

Bond reached out a hand, gripping Q by the shoulder. “That's a stag roaring. Keep still and listen.” He faded back further into the trees, guiding Q along with him. The call sounded again, louder and, presumably, closer. “Not much wind,” Bond remarked. “Hope he doesn't scent us. Just stay still right here.”

It seemed a timeless interval. The light was a little brighter but diffused and mist still clung in shreds. Q was tremendously aware of Bond, standing a bit behind him, brushing against him casually. There was a grunting noise and an apparition stepped out of the mist. Q stared wide eyed. This beast was enormous and the antlers crowning his head were larger than the one Q had found. The stag surveyed the space and then lowered his head to sniff the base of one of the trees and grunted again, rubbing against the trunk. Q could see how the bark had been worn away. Pawing a bit at the ground, the stag gave one more look around and turned to make it's way up the rise and out of sight. 

Q took a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh. He turned and found Bond extremely close and watching him with an expression Q couldn't put a name to. What Q did know was that they had just shared something rare and perfect that seemed encapsulated in a space outside their usual lives. He knew he was staring too long and lowered his gaze to the heather grey scarf Bond was wearing. The moment became something altogether new when Bond tilted his head and paused, lips hovering so close to Q's that they breathed the same air and Q felt every hair on his body rise in anticipation. When he exhaled just the tiniest bit, he crossed the last fraction of distance and brought their mouths together. They held the contact a long moment before Bond drew away, hands on Q's shoulders and eyes unbelievably bright. “I'm s...” Q began.

“Don't dare apologize,” Bond interrupted. He ran a gentle hand up from Q's shoulder to the side of his neck and forward to cup his face. “Unless you mean to make me stop, in which case, I'll be very disappointed.”

“You want me?” Q asked, his voice a very thin whisper.

“For bloody ages. I'm surprised I wasn't more obvious.” Bond leaned in and took advantage of their relative size difference to turn Q around, back to a convenient tree. He pressed them together, chest to knee and studied Q carefully. Q reached a tentative hand up, tracing the sharp planes of Bond's face and smiling approval. The next kiss was no longer tentative. It was fiercely possessive and wildly passionate and Q was panting by the time Bond pulled away and nodded his head back in the direction of the lodge. “Maybe we should take this discussion indoors?” He raised an eyebrow and Q nodded decisively. He had followed Bond a few steps when he remembered something and darted back, grabbing up the antler to take with him. He wasn't superstitious but he wasn't about to question his luck this morning. 

When they entered the lodge by the kitchen entrance, Q set his find on one of the benches. Bond eyed it and looked at Q with a sudden wry twist of the lips. Q knew, in a sudden flash of comprehension what Bond was about to say. He put a finger up to Bond's lips. “If you make one bad pun about horns,” he warned, “I will send you on your next mission with a pea shooter and a tricycle.” When Bond did not make the expected comment, Q slid his finger away and replaced it with his lips. Bond was much better at kissing than jokes and, as Q found out, a master of a great many other skills.


	7. Bravo

#7 Bravo!

Being off the active list used to be Bond's least favorite thing. He threw himself into a new mission with enthusiasm and looked for the next one as soon as he was debriefed. Lately, he had reasons to appreciate a bit of slack time, reasons all related to a certain person. And wasn't that an odd development, a domesticated 007? He had rather slipped into it by degrees but he was well and truly caught now. Q had become a never ending fascination. Each time Bond thought he had discovered every facet of the man, something new presented itself. The casually confided information that Q had 'two cats and a mortgage' was a pale description. The cats were meticulously cared for and trained to do a variety of behaviors ('never call them tricks, 007') and were the latest in a succession of rescues Q had lived with since he went to university. The mortgage was attached to a lovely hundred year old warehouse Q had restored to his exact specifications. Bond was almost as fond of the building as he was of Q. So he was feeling quite pleased that he had completed the backlogged paperwork Tanner had foisted on him and was able to get out of headquarters at the very reasonable hour of 1645. He made a quick stop to pick up wine to accompany dinner and keyed in the security code for the door. 

He heard the sound as soon as the door opened. Q loved music of all kinds. He frequently used it as background for household chores. The music today had a definite dance beat. Bond knew he had heard it before. He assumed it must be popular from the frequency with which it appeared on club playlists or the radio. He stopped inside the door and stood quietly, watching. Q was ostensibly cooking, standing at the center island of the kitchen area and chopping away at vegetables. And he was singing along with the music and dancing. 'I'm in love with the shape of you, we push and pull like a magnet do' the lyrics went. And Q moved, sinuous and graceful, putting the knife down and slide stepping to the cabinets and back with a bowl. 'Although my heart is falling too, I'm in love with your body'.And Bond seriously appreciated the sentiment. Q was a physical lure like no other but he was completely taken with the genius who could give himself over to unabashed enjoyment in this way. The song ended and as the announcer cut in with the lead to an ad, Bond clapped his hands and smiled. “Bravo, Q.”

Q spun around, eyes wide and startled, an embarrassed flush staining his cheeks as he grabbed the remote to mute the music. “Sorry, I didn't expect you this early.” He followed with those wide green eyes as Bond slid out of his jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, undoing his cuffs and all the while advancing and holding Q's gaze. Bond finally stood directly in front of him and reached one arm around Q's slender waist, bringing his other hand up to the side of his face. 

“I think I'd like to try out a few dance moves,” Bond whispered. “I confess, I am a little old fashioned. I like my partner up close.” He nosed into Q's curls and began to sway a little.

“But there's no music,” Q tried to protest.

“Just imagine something slow and sexy,” Bond advised. “It's all about the rhythm anyway.”


	8. Caught

#8 Caught

This floor was dark, the only illumination from the clock on the microwave and the glow of the few streetlights on this quiet suburban lane. Bond stood still as a statue in the shadow of the staircase. He counted his breaths and listened. The only sounds were a distant vehicle on the main road and some quiet rustling from the garden, foxes or the neighbor's orange cat. Bond had made himself familiar with the neighborhood. There were also an occasional creak or low groan. The house was old, if nicely updated, and had it's own unique collection of noises. Bond waited patiently. The digital clock told him he had spent 7 minutes standing here. 

Assured he was unheard by the man upstairs, he ventured out of the shadows. The streetlights illuminated enough for his dark adapted eyes to make his way across the polished hardwood floor. He skirted the sofa and a low table, heading for the cabinet next to the shelving that housed the television. He eased the door open and poked a tiny torch inside. The contents disappointed. Miscellaneous electronics and a random collection of plastic figures apparently portraying film characters were all he found. He moved on to the next cabinet, again with no luck. 

Standing and walking cat footed to the kitchen, he began checking drawers and cabinets. He froze as the torch beam revealed a flash of bright yellow and red. He chuckled to himself. The bugger thought he had hidden the goods but not quite well enough to evade discovery by one of Her Majesty's best agents. He gingerly slid the washer door open, reached a hand inside and froze as the kitchen light flared on. He was caught! And so close to getting away cleanly. He stood, hands out to the side in an endeavor to look harmless. 

The figure in the doorway stood with crossed arms, one bare foot tapping at the floor, pyjamas hanging low on lean hips. “James, fingers in the biscuit tin again?”

“You don't put them in the biscuit tin,” James pouted.

Q tried to look stern but a hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “If I want any of the Tunnock's to be here the day after I open a package, I have to hide them.” He slid around Bond to reach in and retrieved the package. There were four of them left. Carrying the yellow box, Q flipped the switch on the kettle. “Since you already found them, we might as well share these.” 

Bond slid up behind Q, looking over a shoulder and watching as Q set mugs and spoons out. “I'll buy you more tomorrow.” he sealed the promise with a kiss that became several that were only interrupted by the whistle of the kettle. Midnight snacks were all well and good but midnight snogging was so much more fun.


	9. Sunburn (free space)

#9 Free Space – Sunburn

James Bond was whistling as he walked down the corridor from the lift, waving at the security guard on the door as he entered Q branch. The mission just completed had been a two week stint of utter boredom, minus the exploding car belonging to the terrorist leader. And for once, Bond could say with complete honesty that he had nothing to do with that. The man apparently had rivals within his own camp who were very happy to eliminate him. And their present squabbles over leadership rendered their ability to create chaos elsewhere minimal. He moved a bit more slowly when he saw various technicians turn to look in his direction, their expressions ranging from curiosity to apprehension as he approached Q's office. There were odd glances exchanged between several of them, one shaking her head. The denizens of Q branch could be a little twitchy sometimes but this seemed a bit excessive as he was in a very fine mood and had even brought back all his tech. There were a few barely suppressed gasps as he knocked. He was more interested in what he could hear through the door.

“This is all your fault, Moneypenny. Free concert in the park, you said. Lovely day out, you said.” Q sounded decidedly pissy.

“Oh stop your moaning and get that shirt off.” That was Eve. Bond had no idea what might be going on to have Moneypenny trying to get Q out of his clothes but this had to be worth listening to. Bond himself had enough trouble with that process. Q could be remarkably stubborn. Of course Moneypenny was unlikely to resort to the means Bond generally employed. 

“It bloody well hurts,” Q complained with a definite whine to his voice. 

“And I am trying to make it feel better if you'd just hold still.” Moneypenny sounded torn between amusement and irritation. Bond could sympathize. Q definitely could have that effect. “Damn, that's cold!” 

“Of course it is, darling. It does more good that way.” 

Bond chose that moment to open the door. Q gave a squeak and tried to pull his shirt back together, Eve slapped a bottle on the desk and snapped, “Fine. Have him do it. I'm going to get a drink or several. Welcome back 007. He's all yours.” Eve sauntered out, giving Bond a kiss on the cheek as she passed and closing the door. 

Q was still struggling with the shirt, having yanked it closed he was refastneing the buttons but had managed to misalign them. He was studiously ignoring Bond who watched for a few seeconds then approached to sit on the corner of the desk. He casually picked up the plastic bottle that was, indeed, chilled. Pure Aloe Vera Gel, it said on the label. “So how bad is it?” Bond asked.

Q looked up and then back down at the buttons he was trying and failing to close properly. “I'm fine, James. Don't fuss.”

Bond smiled. Stubborn and cranky Q was a fact of life. If he wanted the passionate lovely creature in his life and in his bed, he had to put up with the occasional appearance of this little ill tempered goblin, grimacing and tugging at his uncooprerative fingers. “I'll fuss if I like,” Bond replied mildly. “Let me see?” He rested his hands on the shirt very lightly. 

Q huffed out a breath and muttered, “Fine. Go ahead.”

Bond hid the grin as he gently slid the buttons loose and opened the shirt. He was glad he hadn't laughed. Q's skin was reddened and hot. He nudged the shirt further out of the way and realized the damage was not just the front. “Sit forward.” He added, “please,” when Q glared mutinously. The shirt finally off, Bond surveyed his lover. “So, a concert?” he began as he poured aloe on his hands and began to sooth it over hot red skin on Q's back. 

There was a hiss at the initial chill then a blissful sigh as the gel did its' work. “Yes. Eve had passes to a free concert in the park for a local band we both like. I put on sunblock, but, well...” He trailed off and groaned as Bond drizzled more of the aloe on his shoulders.

“Let me guess,” Bond said. “You put it everywhere but under your clothes and you were only wearing a tee shirt.” Obvious from the pattern of the burn which ended at the place where the sleeves would have. Bond spun the chair around and poured more aloe into his palm then blinked. He peered closer and moved his mouth silently, finally sitting back to get a better perpsective. “You favor humorous slogans on your shirt, I see. Probably in black letters.” Q dropped his chin, trying to see and wincing when the move pulled too tender skin. Bond wiped his hands and pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture and turning the screen so Q could see. Across the upper part of his chest, against the lobster red background of his skin, Computer Whisperer was spelled out in pale letters. Q put the phone down and groaned, closing his eyes. Bond took advantage of the move to finish applying the gel, gently pulling the shirt back together, buttons properly fastened this time. “Now sign out so I can take you home. I'll feed you and let you soak in the bath a bit, then more of this. You'll feel a bit better tomorrow.” 

Q opened one eye, still a bit disgruntled but nowhere near a stroppy as earlier. “How in the hell do you do this? I never let myself be managed.” He sad the last as though it were a dirty word.

Bond leaned in and kissed Q, a quick affectionate gesture. “Because I am a genius whisperer. Now move along so I can pamper you.” 

Q, somewhat to his surprise, went along agreeably, waving goodnight to the staff and heading for the lift, Bond moving silently in his wake, glaring down the one tech who seemed inclined to make a comment. He'd sit down after Q was more happy and relaxed this evening and order some tee shirts with UV protection. If his genius didn't like them, he would just have to get used to wearing them under his funny ones.


End file.
